Floreana Island
Post Office Bay was our early morning adventure to visit the barrel and exchange postcards, followed soon by breakfast as we cruised over to Champion where the ocean beckoned to one and all with its blue, deep waters and sea lions romping through the waves.
The islet once again caught us in her magic of tropical fish. Surgeons, damsels and grunts hung suspended over the deep drop-off, while cabrillas and giant hawkfish lurked among the rocks and boulders. I traveled to the calmer side of the islet where inside a tiny protected bay, several “teenagers” (young sea lions between the ages of a few months to two years old) seemed to have been awaiting our arrival with verve and energy to spare. The eye contact made between our two separate mammalian families crossed the barrier of language, and the word “playtime” was implicitly understood by both.
The afternoon activities included a paddle over shallow turquoise waters with marine turtles silently below and sea lions splashily above. The kayaks seem to fascinate them with their long, sleek shapes and bright colors, sitting so close to water level. Others of us on shore playing in the surf had curious youngsters stop by for a look-see. Strange legs, those.
Devil’s Crown snorkelers had the most remarkable fortune in being in the water with diving boobies, and a brown pelican almost on top of one in its attempt to capture the schools of small fish trapped inside among the rocks in shallow water.
Of course the flamingos also provided spots of brilliant color in courtship mode. Slow wing stretches followed by leg stretches and flashes of black primaries were the preliminaries to what was already happening elsewhere in the lagoon: flamingos nesting on the muddy banks. No eggs or chicks yet visible, but soon, surely.
Post Office Bay was our early morning adventure to visit the barrel and exchange postcards, followed soon by breakfast as we cruised over to Champion where the ocean beckoned to one and all with its blue, deep waters and sea lions romping through the waves.
The islet once again caught us in her magic of tropical fish. Surgeons, damsels and grunts hung suspended over the deep drop-off, while cabrillas and giant hawkfish lurked among the rocks and boulders. I traveled to the calmer side of the islet where inside a tiny protected bay, several “teenagers” (young sea lions between the ages of a few months to two years old) seemed to have been awaiting our arrival with verve and energy to spare. The eye contact made between our two separate mammalian families crossed the barrier of language, and the word “playtime” was implicitly understood by both.
The afternoon activities included a paddle over shallow turquoise waters with marine turtles silently below and sea lions splashily above. The kayaks seem to fascinate them with their long, sleek shapes and bright colors, sitting so close to water level. Others of us on shore playing in the surf had curious youngsters stop by for a look-see. Strange legs, those.
Devil’s Crown snorkelers had the most remarkable fortune in being in the water with diving boobies, and a brown pelican almost on top of one in its attempt to capture the schools of small fish trapped inside among the rocks in shallow water.
Of course the flamingos also provided spots of brilliant color in courtship mode. Slow wing stretches followed by leg stretches and flashes of black primaries were the preliminaries to what was already happening elsewhere in the lagoon: flamingos nesting on the muddy banks. No eggs or chicks yet visible, but soon, surely.
